


Surgery

by Fira21



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blood, Gore, M/M, Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 03:15:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1412974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fira21/pseuds/Fira21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Steve's accelerated healing turns out to be a bad thing. Something where the faster healing is making things worse. I would prefer something other than the standard, super-healing makes allows for more torture without death, but I'll even take that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surgery

_Guns_ , Tony thought, _are a bitch._  
  
The thought kept bouncing around in his head and he couldn’t seem to shake it. Not necessarily a bad thing considering the thoughts that _could_ be there. Thoughts along the lines of: _God Steve. Please no. Please be okay. Please. Stop. Fucking. Healing. Christ. Fuck. Steve._  
  
He was out of the suit, never even had time to get in it before a gun had been levelled at him. His memory flashes. Walking, laughing. Glint of silver. A quick painful inhalation. _Fear_.  
  
Steve, pushing him out of the way. Steve, taking the shot and another and... Steve, barrelling forward, taking the gunman down. Steve on the ground, gasping, blood dripping sluggishly from out underneath his fingers. Screaming. Phone.  
  
Pulling his shirt open. Fingers scrabbling. Wounds healing over, trapping the bullets. His fingers pressing and pulling, trying to keep the wounds open. His pinky lodged deep where the one bullet was. He could feel it with his nail, heat still radiating from it and burning the tip of his finger, but he doesn’t move it. He can’t. Ambulance.  
  
He had to stand through most of the procedure, his pinky finger embedded in Steve’s chest keeping the wound from healing. Pulling at the skin to keep it from healing around his finger while the surgeons cut Steve open, slicing into skin with scalpels and ripping him open again and again just to find and extract tiny bits of metal and lead. _Christ_.  
  
Pain medication doesn’t work on him. _Nothing_ works on him. Laughing gas, knock out gas, nothing. And he can’t look away from the blue of Steve’s eyes, hazed with pain. He doesn’t cry out, doesn’t flinch. Just lies there, trying not to gasp for breath and raise his chest by accident as they cut into him and cut into him and...  
  
 _Guns are a bitch,_ is all he can think. He can’t look down at what they’re doing; he can’t look away from Steve. He wants to hold his hand, wants to brush back his hair, kiss his forehead, tell him it will be okay. Wants to comfort him and hold him and...  
  
There are words around him and he barely registers them, but he doesn’t flinch as the cold metal of forceps wedges it way in around his pinky. They’re pulling his pinky out slowly, pushing the forceps in deeper. Out completely, the forceps quickly following, dragging the hunk of half melted lead out.  
  
And then it’s done. It’s done and they’re wiping Steve down. His chest is already mostly healed. The extraction points red and puffy but sealed. He’s being pulled away by a surgeon, likely to scrub up, but _god_ , he can’t leave Steve like this. He _can’t_.  
  
He shakes his head. Pulls his arm from the grip and he doesn’t know what he says or does, but he’s left alone. Left alone with Steve. Steve whose eyes are clearer now. Steve who is sitting up. Why is he sitting up?  
  
There’s a half-choked sound coming from his throat as he reaches out and pushes Steve back down. He sees in his peripheral the blood staining his hands. His fingernails are dark and browning, his hands still dripping. He’s shaking.  
  
There’s a hand wrapped around his, a palm on his cheek. “Tony.” Steve says. It’s all he says. “Tony.” He murmurs.  
  
He shakes his head. Grabs at the hand on his face and grips it tightly. His nails are digging into skin with the force. His bloodied, dripping nails.  
  
“Tony.”  
  
“Fuck. Fuck. Jesus fuck. Stop fucking _talking_.” He babbles. “Jesus Christ Steve.”  
  
He leans down and smashes his lips to Steve, stopping his talking, his repeating utterance of just his name. _Jesus_. His teeth are biting at Steve’s lips and it must hurt but all he gets is a stifled groan. He keeps gripping Steve’s hand and Steve’s other is on his neck, in his hair. Pushing him forward, pressing them together until he feels his teeth pushing against his lower lip hard enough to split skin. He doesn’t even care. There’s a tongue in his mouth, sliding and licking and _taking_. He gives and gives and can’t do anything but give and moan helplessly.  
  
He’s away with a rattling gasp for breath. He can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t do anything but move in again for another kiss. If it’s even a kiss. It feels like more. Like a transference of life, of soul.  
  
“ _Tony._ ” Steve utters, his voice wrecked. He shudders.  
  
“Steve.” He breathes. He pulls back to find Steve’s eyes. Bright blue and piercing. Hazed with need instead of pain and _god_ , is that ever an improvement.  
  
“Tony.” Steve says. “Take me home.”  
  
He can only nod.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Avengers kinkmeme](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/9218.html?thread=20658434#t20658434). I originally started with the idea that the two aren't in a relationship yet. Make of that what you will.


End file.
